A New Year's Eve Party For Two
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: On New Year's Eve, anticipating their first night alone since the birth of their baby in May, Molly plans a special night for Sherlock that involves a cute balloon game. Sherlock makes a decision about their future at Baker Street after coming to some conclusions of his own. What will Molly think of this turn of events? Sequel to "Another Holmes Family Christmas in Sussex."
1. Plans for New Year's Eve and Beyond

It was New Year's Eve afternoon and Sherlock was sitting in his chair, wearing his reading glasses and reading one of his Christmas presents from Molly, _The Great Divorce_ by C.S. Lewis. He glanced over at Molly who was busily doing something that he could not immediately deduce, with balloons and little pieces of paper. He'd have to ask her about that. In the meantime though, he ventured a comment on the book. He lowered the reading glasses on his nose so he could see her clearly. "When you gave me this book, Molly, I was wondering if you were implying we were having some mysterious issues in our marriage that I wasn't aware of."

Molly looked up from her task and laughed. "You are so silly sometimes! Don't you remember Pastor Briggs talking about that book in church? You seem to enjoy the C.S. Lewis books, and this one seemed really interesting, with the talk of contrasts between heaven and hell. In fact, I think I'll read it after you're done."

Sherlock pouted and dropped the book over onto the desk next to his chair. "So, in other words, it was really a Christmas gift for you."

Molly stood and walked over to him, then sat on his lap and wound her arms around his waist. "And you're saying that hot pink lace teddy wasn't a Christmas present for you as well as me?"

Sherlock removed his reading glasses and reached over to put them on the desk as well. Then he placed his own arms around Molly. "Touché, my love. I don't suppose you'd like to model it for me now, would you? He bent forward to give her a lingering kiss, moving his hands along her back invitingly, caressingly.

He had his moves perfectly mapped out - a little kissing, followed by slow movement of the hands up under her blouse. Find the fastening to that damned three hook maternity bra she wore 24/7, except on special occasions, like Christmas the previous week. Unhook bra with one hand (he was quite proud of the way he was getting better at one-handed unhooking) while undoing enough buttons to pull her blouse up and over her head. Of course, that was just the beginning...

But not today.

Molly broke their kiss and pushed against his chest just when he was thinking she would comply with his wishes. Molly almost always gave in when they began the serious business of passionate kissing, and he huffed out a disappointed breath.

"Sherlock, we have all day and night. Let's not wear ourselves out too early." She sighed a little. "I miss Victoria. It's really strange to think she won't be here with us tonight. I hope Mum can handle her and that she doesn't get too fussy."

Sherlock raised a hand to smooth the creases that had formed in Molly's brow. "I know this is her first time away from us overnight, but your mum is great with Victoria, and you gave her enough bottles of breast milk and baby food to tide her over. I'm sure she'll be fine. Besides," now his voice held a caressing note, "your mother wanted this to be a Christmas gift for us - time alone."

Molly laid her head against his chest briefly, then looked up at him. "I know. But I have plans I want to get ready for tonight, to make it extra special, and that means no time for unscheduled bedroom activity."

Sherlock frowned. "I certainly hope by the end of this evening then, you have some _planned_ bedroom activity."

This time it was Molly's turn to smooth the creases on his brow and give him a quick peck on the lips before she hopped off of his lap. "Don't despair, husband, dear. I promise you won't be disappointed when the clock strikes midnight."

She returned to her place on the sofa and he watched her writing on little slips of paper, then rolling them up tightly. Then each piece of paper was inserted into the neck of a balloon and carefully pushed inside. _Intriguing. What is Molly up to?_ wondered Sherlock.

Molly looked over at him again. "Seeing as you are more interested in what I am doing than in reading your book, you can help me blow these balloons up."

When Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow at her and didn't move, she placed her hands on her hips. "Sherlock Holmes, come over here this instant and help me, otherwise you can forget the games tonight."

Sherlock chuckled and stood, then walked over to join his wife. "When you put it that way, how can I refuse?"

There were eight balloons and he blew up four of them, while Molly took care of the other four. Once the balloons had been tied off, Molly set the red one aside at the far end of the table, saying, "That one's for midnight."

Sherlock looked at the other seven balloons laid out in a neat row on the coffee table. Fortunately they weren't full-sized balloons, but the smaller ones typically used as water balloons. "So, what are the rules of this game of yours?" he questioned, with a sidelong glance at Molly.

"Well, the idea is this - every half an hour from nine o'clock onwards, you pop a balloon, and view the activity inside. We will then proceed to do that activity," she informed him.

Sherlock frowned a little. "I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but popping one balloon up until midnight, not including the one you have set aside, equals six balloons, not seven."

Molly smirked at him. "That's the fun part. Among the balloons is one booby prize. So you had better hope that is the one that remains unpopped at the end."

Sherlock groaned. "That does not sound in the least like fun. Why do we need a booby prize at all?"

Molly patted his leg. "Because if you get it, it's a little gift for me. Besides, you're such a brilliant detective, you should know which one has the booby prize and be able to avoid it. It's more fun that way."

"Molly, I'm a _detective_ , not a mind-reader!" he exclaimed, but his wife was not to be dissuaded, so he switched tack. "Well, now that you have all your preparations complete, what are we going to do until nine o'clock?" He placed his hand over hers where it still rested on his leg and squeezed it, giving her a suggestive look.

Moly tossed her head. "We can figure out what to have for dinner tonight - leftovers from Christmas? There's still some turkey and stuffing left."

Sherlock grimaced. "I am not eating week old turkey and stuffing. That should have been put in the rubbish bin yesterday. How about we go out and just get chips?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "You and your chips. Never mind, I'll just make something for us."

At that moment a knock sounded on the door. "Hoo hoo," the voice of Mrs. Hudson called.

Sherlock walked over to the door and opened it. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Hudson. What can we do for you?"

Mrs. Hudson looked around curiously, seeming to note the absence of the baby. "Where's Victoria? Is she having a nap upstairs?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Molly's mother is looking after her today and tonight, so that Molly and I can have a night to ourselves."

Mrs. Hudson gave him a knowing look. "I see. That is understandable. Molly seems to be up several times a night to go back and forth up and down those stairs to tend to her. It must be very tiring - for both of you."

It was at that moment that Sherlock made a snap decision. "Yes, it is. In fact, I have decided to move the cot into our bedroom today so that Molly doesn't have to do that anymore." He heard Molly make a little exclamation behind him, but did not turn to look at her. "So, did you come here for a social visit this afternoon or was there another reason?" He tried to keep his voice polite, but his mind was suddenly whirling with his decision to move the cot, and he wanted to tend to that as soon as possible.

Molly walked over to stand beside him and she slid an arm around his waist as Mrs. Hudson responded. "Actually, I am making a lasagna and was wondering if you'd like me to bring some up to you for dinner later."

Molly smiled at the elderly woman. "Oh, that would be lovely, Mrs. Hudson. We were just discussing what we were going to do for dinner."

Mrs. Hudson beamed. "Well, that is certainly fortuitous. I'll bring it up to you at around six or so. And while I am at it, I think it is past time the two of you referred to me by my first name, Martha. Calling me Mrs. Hudson has always made me feel so old."

Sherlock's eyebrows rose. His gut reaction was to respond, "But you _are_ old," but he repressed the rude sentiment. He was not the same man as he had been ten years earlier when he just blurted out anything that came into his head, most of which showed a distinct lack of tact. Using her first name though - he had never even thought about it before. Yes, on occasion he would refer to her affectionately as Hudders, and she seemed to like the way Sherlock had dubbed her Nanny Hudders as a grandmotherly title to use for Victoria, but calling her Martha just seemed so foreign. However, he was willing to accede to her wishes.

"Thank you...Martha" responded Sherlock, finding the name rather alien on his tongue. He supposed he would eventually get used to it. Then he thought of something. "While I have you here, may I return downstairs with you and get a screwdriver to disassemble the cot so I can move it?"

"Of course," she responded, and he proceeded to follow her downstairs to collect the screwdriver.

As he returned upstairs, he remembered the trouble he had had initially when assembling the cot, the way he had eschewed the instructions, and how Molly had ended up helping him with the assembly.

When he entered the flat, Molly came up to him immediately and asked, "When did you decide to move the cot into our bedroom?"

Sherlock put down the screwdriver on the coffee table before answering. He ventured a small smile. "It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I suddenly realised I'm tired of the way you have to get up several times a night - or I do, when you are on nightshift, to take care of Victoria."

Molly nodded slowly. "To be honest, I've never really been comfortable with the idea of her being in a separate room on a different floor and even outside our own front door. It just doesn't seem safe, somehow, even with the video monitor."

Sherlock slid his arms around her and looked down into her eyes. "So, you aren't cross with me for making a decision without you?"

She smiled at him. "Not in this case." Then she sobered. "There's just one problem, Sherlock, and I'm not talking about the fact that our room is going to be much more cluttered with a cot in it."

He looked at her quizzically. "And what is that?"

"If we have more children, we will not be able to accommodate a second cot or Moses basket in our bedroom."

Sherlock kissed the top of her head. "In that case, if and when the time comes where you are pregnant again, we will buy a house of our own, and Baker Street will become merely my consulting rooms."

Molly's arms came up to curl about his neck. "You'd really be ready to move out of Baker Street?"

He gazed at her. There was no hesitation at all when he answered. "I don't care where we live, as long as it's together." Then he added, "Actually, separating our home residence from my work would probably be a good idea. We've been dealing with a lot of media attention directed here for a year now, and every time I solve a high-profile case, there's a slew of reporters outside. I'd rather not subject Victoria or any future children to that scrutiny."

Molly stood on tiptoes then and kissed him, and he luxuriated in it - until she pulled back and looked up at him again. "So, we're really going to do this? If and when I get pregnant again, we're going to look at buying a house?" She looked so genuinely delighted at the prospect, he knew it was the right choice.

"Yes, my love." He would have liked to kiss her again, but decided the best use of his time would be to get that cot-bed disassembled and reassembled. Work first, play later.

He released Molly and retrieved the screwdriver. "So, how would you feel about assisting me me to pull apart the cot and set it up again in our bedroom?" he asked his wife.

Molly grinned. "After the way you had trouble even putting it together properly the first time, I think my help would definitely be a good thing."

And so, for the next hour, Sherlock busied himself disassembling the minimum amount of pieces of the cot in order to transport it downstairs. Molly, who was definitely stronger than she looked, he thought admiringly, managed to carry the mattress down and set it temporarily on their bed.

Finally the task was complete. The cot-bed was taking up most of the room at the foot of their bed, leaving only enough room for them to squeeze by, but it was done. Sherlock thought with satisfaction that this would definitely make things easier in future. If he and Molly were interrupted by their baby during an indelicate moment, having her close by would mean Molly could feed her and get her settled again much quicker, and do it from the comfort of their own bed, rather than sitting upstairs in the rocking chair. Instead of grudgingly going to sleep, he could watch his wife feed the baby and stay "in the mood," ready to resume what had been interrupted. _Yes, definitely a good solution. Why didn't I think of this months ago?_

Glancing at his watch, Sherlock saw it wasn't yet five o'clock. He was definitely ready to have some uninterrupted time with Molly. She had gone into the bathroom to wash her hands and use the loo, and he did the same as soon as she exited.

When he came out of the bathroom, she was in the bedroom, with her hands on the railing of the cot, looking into it. She turned around to look at him. "I know it's going to be a bit cramped in here, but I'm glad we did this, Sherlock," she told him, and he walked to stand beside her.

He raised a hand to tilt her chin upwards. "Me too." Then he added silkily, "So, now that the work is done, and we have at least an hour until Mrs. Hudson brings us our dinner, can we indulge in a little playtime, or will it ruin your plans for later?"

Molly turned to face him properly and slid her hands around his waist. "Knowing how quick your recovery time is, my love, I think we can definitely indulge in a little playtime now without it ruining things for us later."

Sherlock smiled at that, then lowered his lips to hers. Within a short time, he had pressed her back onto the bed, and was kissing her more urgently, feeling his heart race as it always did, and he felt almost giddy at the knowledge that there was no baby to interrupt them this time. It was just like old times, when he and Molly could indulge in amorous pursuits whenever the mood struck them.

This time Sherlock was able to do what he had fantasised about earlier, sliding his hands up to unfasten Molly's bra with one hand while he used the other to release a couple buttons of her blouse. She in turn was busy with his own buttons and they were soon enjoying the intimacy of the marriage bed with no interruptions to distract them. And it was oh, _so good_.

Afterwards, Sherlock glanced at the clock and reluctantly prodded Molly, who was nodding off in his arms. "It's ten to six, love. We had better get up now before Mrs. Hudson turns up. I don't think we locked the door."

Molly sighed and sat up, then reached for her maternity bra and breast pads to replace them inside the bra. "Yeah, I need to use my breast pump anyway," she informed Sherlock, wrinkling her nose a little. "My breasts are feeling uncomfortably full."

He looked at her sympathetically. He had seen Molly's discomfort before on the odd occasion when she had come home from work and rushed to put the baby to her breast, hungry or not, to relieve that ache of her breasts filling with milk because she had been too busy to use her breast pump at work. "You go ahead and use your pump, love. I'll get dressed and get the lasagna from Mrs. Hudson, I mean, _Martha_ , when she brings it up."

He dressed quickly and was casually seated in his armchair, holding the borrowed screwdriver when the knock sounded on the door to indicate that Mrs. Hudson was outside.

He opened the door to see his landlady holding a tray on which rested a steaming casserole dish with what looked like only two pieces of lasagna removed from it. "Thought I'd let you have the dish. I just took two pieces for myself. You can return the dish tomorrow or the next day," she told him with a smile.

She really was an amazing woman, he thought, then wondered what she had planned for that night. He felt duty bound to ask, "Do you have plans for this evening?"

Mrs. Hudson smiled mysteriously. "As a matter of fact, I'm going out for a few drinks with Iris from Speedy's. We'll watch the fireworks display at midnight on the telly at the pub." Then she gave Sherlock a wicked grin. "Who knows? Perhaps you might not be the only one getting lucky tonight if there's a lonely man there."

Sherlock flushed. He would never get used to the casual way his landlady discussed her sexual history. He had cut off enough ramblings from her about her late husband Frank, to last a lifetime. "Yes, well," he managed, making the screwdriver/lasagna exchange, "good luck with that." Then he added hastily. "Thanks for the lasagna and the loan of the screwdriver, Mrs...Martha."

"You're welcome, dear." And with that, she bounded down the stairs at a pace which belied her advanced age. Sherlock hoped he would still be as sprightly when he attained the age of around eighty.

Molly exited the bedroom at that point, holding a filled bottle of breast milk. "Better?" he inquired solicitously.

"Much," she responded with a smile, then put the bottle in the fridge as he set the lasagna down on the kitchen counter. It was time to eat. He was very much looking forward to the rest of the evening, he thought, even as he dished out the lasagna onto plates for them.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I was originally intending this to be a one-shot, but I ended up including a few extra things I'd been thinking about - like the annoyance of having a second bedroom that is outside the front door of 221B. What is with that anyway? I never liked the idea of a baby being up in that spare bedroom, so I decided it was time to have baby Victoria moved. Of course, that necessitated the set up for a future residence change. If you want to read more about Sherlock's trouble with assembling the cot, I refer you to my engagement story, _A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage._

I also recommend the C.S. Lewis book, which I recently listened to on audio.

The talk about the discomfort of aching breasts too wasn't planned, but it is a factual thing, as any mother who has breast-fed would know. It is not fun to have a full supply of milk and nowhere for it to go!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to seeing the little balloon game play out. More about that and the person who deserves credit for the idea in the next chapter.

Your reviews, favourites and follows gratefully accepted.


	2. The Great Balloon Game

**Author's note 1:** Finished this story while spending over five and a half hours in the ER with my teenage middle daughter who had been having chest pains. In the end acid reflux was suggested, but we'll see how the medication goes. She's still not at 100% a week later, so I'm a little stressed right now.

* * *

Once dinner was finished and the dishes were done, Sherlock walked over to the Christmas tree. He placed a hand on the Sherlock bauble Molly had given him the previous year and adjusted it slightly, so his name was more centred. Then he adjusted Molly's, which was beside his, so it too was perfectly aligned. _How did these baubles manage to change position when nobody was near them?_ he wondered idly. Perhaps a mysterious Christmas elf took great pleasure in displacing them. Finally, he adjusted the smaller bauble which had Victoria's name on it now in calligraphy lettering.

Molly had returned to the place where she had initially purchased the ornaments, after they had pulled out the decorations a few weeks earlier, and had had their daughter's name squeezed onto the bauble. The little bulb now hung below the two larger ones with the letters CTOR displayed. It was symmetrical, yes, but looked a bit silly, so Sherlock shifted it slightly to a better-reading TORI. Then he reflected that Tori would be a nice nickname, if she ever wanted to shorten her name. He wasn't particularly fond of the nickname Vicky. Not that he would ever use a nickname. Their daughter would always be Victoria to him.

Even as he was thinking about this, Molly came over to him. "It's too bad we will be taking down the tree tomorrow, but it is so nice to see Victoria's name there, isn't it? Maybe in a couple years there will be another name to add," she remarked, leaning her head against his upper arm.

"Well, there are five unused ones left," pointed out Sherlock, turning his head to kiss her hair.

"We are still not having six children, Sherlock. At least there will be spare ones in case of breakage." Then she exclaimed, "Oh, I see how are you shifted the smaller bauble a little so it reads _TORI_. Wouldn't that be a cute nickname for her when she is older?"

Sherlock grinned. It was remarkable how Molly could almost read his mind. "Perhaps for you, but she will always be Victoria to me." He took her hand then and led her back to the sofa.

"Speaking of Victoria, I think I'll call my mum and see how she is doing," commented Molly, grabbing her phone off of the coffee table, almost dislodging one of the balloons which teetered slightly, then resumed its former position.

Sherlock listened as his wife called her mother and reassured herself that everything was fine. Victoria was having a great time with Nanny Hooper and had already finished her dinner. Molly insisted on talking to the baby for a few moments, and Sherlock rolled his eyes when she asked him to also say a few words. He complied readily enough though, hoping that Molly would not decide she needed to call her mother again later to check up on the baby. This was supposed to be his and Molly's special night alone, after all.

Time seemed to drag interminably until nine o'clock drew near. Most of that time had been spent aimlessly switching channels on the telly and watching random snippets of different shows.

A couple minutes before nine o'clock, Molly got up and went to the bedroom, then returned with a pin, presumably from her sewing kit.

She handed it to Sherlock and said, "Okay, honey. Time for you to choose a balloon to pop." Then she picked up her phone and set a timer to go off for nine-thirty, before replacing it on the table.

With a feeling of great anticipation, Sherlock selected a yellow balloon and stuck the pin into it. The balloon popped and he picked up the slip of paper which had been inside it, then unrolled it and read it out loud.

 _Enjoy a slow dance of your choice with your wife._

Sherlock looked at Molly and smirked. He knew she would be expecting their wedding dance, _A Thousand Years,_ but he decided to choose a different one. He picked up the television remote and muted the sound. Then, taking his own phone from where it also rested on the coffee table, being careful to not disturb any of the balloons still laying on it, he looked through their wedding song playlist and selected _Just a Kiss_ by Lady Antebellum. He turned up the volume on his phone and stood, then extended a hand to Molly, who stood also. He tapped the play button and set the phone down, then took Molly into his arms.

Molly's eyebrows lifted in surprise when the song began, but a smile spread across her lips as she reached up to link her fingers behind his neck. He pulled her in close and they danced together, swaying to the music. As the song drew to a close, he lowered his head to hers and gave Molly a lingering kiss, just one, he wasn't about to move things too fast when midnight was still hours away.

With twenty minutes to go until the next balloon activity, Sherlock decided it wouldn't hurt to do a few more slow dances, so he selected more songs to play and they slow danced together, barely moving. He kept his eyes closed, rubbing small circles in Molly's back, just enjoying their closeness.

Molly's phone timer went off, startling Sherlock, and he released his hold. While she reset the timer for thirty minutes, Sherlock turned off the music, selected another balloon, an orange one this time, and popped it.

This one read, _Share some strawberries with Nutella together._ "Are you looking at revisiting some of our honeymoon memories now?" he questioned Molly, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Molly smirked at him and laid her hand on his arm briefly. "You know me. I love revisiting and re-creating, so expect more of that." With that, she headed off to the kitchen and returned a couple minutes later with a bowl of strawberries, already hulled, placing them on the table. _When the heck did she do that?_ Sherlock wondered, even as she also set a newly opened jar of Nutella onto the table.

Sherlock recalled that lovely picnic they had had on their honeymoon, where they had shared strawberries and Nutella. He definitely had fond memories of that. He reached into the bowl of strawberries and took one out and dipped it into the full jar of Nutella, making sure to cover the strawberry properly, then held it out to Molly, who took a delicate bite of the sweet treat.

He popped the rest of the strawberry into his own mouth. In order to prolong the activity, between strawberries, Sherlock leaned into Molly and kissed her sweet, chocolatey lips. Every now and then he would flick his tongue out and taste further. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. Their previous New Year's Eve, when they had done their own re-creation of the scene in which he had come to her, needing her help before faking his death, had been an unforgettable one, but Sherlock had the feeling this New Year's Eve would top even that one.

Molly made a sigh of utter contentment and cuddled into him after the last strawberry was finished. "Isn't this fun?" she murmured, with her head against his chest.

Sherlock shifted his position slightly so he could hold her more closely against him. "Indeed. Where did you get this balloon idea, anyway?"

"Well, the actual activities are my own, obviously, but it was a lady from church who told me about it. She does this for her daughter and friends each year to make their New Year's Eve special." Then she raised her head to look into his eyes. "Of course, she doesn't have any booby prizes in the balloons. I can take sole credit for that idea."

Sherlock shook his head. "I sincerely hope I do not get the booby prize, although I would not object to getting a delightful pair of prize _boobies_." He winked and let out a huff of laughter as Molly tickled his ribs.

"You _would_ have to confer innuendo onto an innocent term, wouldn't you?"

He stilled her tickling hand. "Am I not permitted to think of more delightful things if I am first to be subjected to not-so-nice ones?"

Molly laughed as well. "You'll get your prize boobies later, you silly man. In any case, the actual booby prize might not be so pleasant for you, but I won't be too upset if you get it," she told him mysteriously.

For the next few minutes, until the ten o'clock timer went off, they sat quietly together, watching the muted television.

Sherlock selected a purple balloon next as Molly reset the timer, crossing his fingers that it didn't contain the booby prize. Fortunately it didn't, and he smiled at the note that dropped from the popped balloon.

 _Choose three pieces of lingerie for Molly to model for you. Once she has done so, choose the one she will wear after the red balloon is popped at midnight._

Oh, he really liked this one. Taking Molly by the hand, he went to the bedroom with her and looked through the lingerie in the drawer specifically reserved for such items. There was an electric blue corset with g-string, which Sherlock remembered Molly telling him had been a hen night gift from her friend Abigail from church. He did quite like Molly in a sexy corset, but she had not worn this one in several months. It would be nice to see it again. He withdrew the black babydoll he had bought during their engagement. The sheer fabric was always a plus, and finally, he chose the brand new, as yet unworn, hot pink lace teddy he had asked her to wear earlier. He knew already this was the one he would want her to wear later that night too.

Molly made a shoo-ing motion. "Well, off you go then, back to the sitting room, while I get dressed, or rather – _un_ dressed," she informed him tartly, with a sultry glance, and Sherlock's lips quirked. She had no idea how _hot_ he found it when she bossed him around. His Molly was usually so sweet and demure, but when she was assertive and gave him those sexy little looks, he was like putty in her hands. Obediently, he walked back to the sitting room and decided to enjoy the show from the comfort of his favorite chair, rather than the sofa.

Five minutes later, Sherlock drew in his breath at the sight of his wife walking seductively towards him in the blue corset. Oh yes, it had definitely been way too long since he had seen that one. It was quite amazing how she had regained her figure almost completely since Victoria's birth, with the exception of her breasts being larger than they had been before she had been pregnant.

"Do you like what you see, Sherlock?" his definitely-not-demure-at-the-moment wife purred.

"Very much so," he breathed, giving her a longing look.

Instead of coming closer though, she merely twirled around, just out of his reach, and he saw the sweet globes of her bottom, which he longed to run his hands over. She gave him a provocative look, then waved goodbye and retreated, which was probably a good idea.

A few minutes later, she reappeared in the black sheer baby doll, through which Sherlock could see the curves of her breasts that made his heartbeat quicken. Once again, Molly pirouetted slowly, just out of his reach, giving him another glimpse of her scantily clad figure. She waved goodbye again and headed back to the bedroom as Sherlock took a few steadying breaths.

Finally, Molly returned in the pink teddy he had bought her. Sherlock was not disappointed. If he had thought it looked good in the catalogue, it looked ten times better on his wife. The fabric was opaque in nature due to the lace design, but there was a cut out beneath the breasts that exposed her navel in a very sexy manner. On this occasion, instead of twirling in front of him, she came closer and bent forward, resting her hands on his shoulders, so that her luscious curves were almost falling out of the top of the teddy. "Which is it to be, _lover boy_?" she asked in a throaty voice that had him feeling like a schoolboy with his first crush. _Did she really just call me lover boy?_ he wondered, feeling an urge to just pull her on to his lap and forget about the rest of the balloons. In fact, he would have done just that, but she obviously noticed his intentions and stepped back hastily, holding her arms in front of her chest.

"I'm waiting for an answer," she said imperiously, tilting her head slightly while keeping well out of his reach.

"That one," he managed, his voice deeper than usual. He shifted forward in his chair, ready to stand and lunge at her, but she eluded him and dashed back to the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her. He was tempted to sulk a little, but then cheered up - the rest of the evening was still ahead and he would get what he wanted in the end. The anticipation would just make it all the sweeter. At least he didn't have to wait ten and a half weeks to get what he wanted, as he had done during their engagement. Of course, that prolonged period of waiting to consummate their relationship had ended up in the most incredible wedding night he could ever have imagined, and he had had no regrets whatsoever.

Sherlock resumed his former position on the sofa and waited for Molly to return, which she did a few minutes later, fully dressed once again. _Perhaps I should have asked her to stay in the teddy,_ he thought, with a twist to his lips.

When the timer went off to indicate it was now ten-thirty, Sherlock selected a green balloon. Excitement filled him as he anticipated the next activity. He popped the balloon and picked up the piece of paper, then groaned when he read it. It was the booby prize.

 _Sherlock Holmes is to change the next five dirty nappies without complaint_ , read the missive.

Molly laughed at the expression on his face. "Now you know why your booby prize isn't such a bad thing for me," she said between giggles.

"Laugh all you want, Molly," he said darkly. "At least I know the rest of the balloons will be pleasurable activities. I'll submit to my punishment with a good grace." In contradiction to his own words, Sherlock sat back on the sofa and folded his arms. So much for being in the mood. Molly knew he hated changing dirty nappies and avoided it at all costs. Punishment _indeed_.

Molly curled her legs beneath herself and pressed close to him, pulling his head down so she could whisper in his ear. "I promise you'll forget all about the booby prize by the time this night is over, my love."

Sherlock had to concede that aside from the distasteful idea of changing nappies, the rest of the evening so far had been a great success. He relaxed his posture and reached down to link his fingers with Molly's, twirling her engagement ring around her finger as he often did. With no prolonged activity before the next balloon event, Molly unmuted the television.

They sat and watched _The Graham Norton Show_ without really paying attention. Sherlock was aware that the well known rock band, _Madness,_ was scheduled to perform later. Even he recalled some of their songs. They had been around for as long as he had been alive, in fact. Mind you, he was not intending to pay attention to the band once midnight hit. Perhaps they would look at a few of the fireworks before moving on to whatever pleasurable activities were mentioned in the final red balloon.

Sherlock reflected further, as he sat with Molly's hand in his own. He was rather glad that Big Ben would chime at midnight. The old clock had been silent for many months. Ringing in the new year would not have been the same without Big Ben.

Sherlock started slightly when Molly's alarm went off again at eleven o'clock. Time to pop another balloon. This time he chose a blue one, and the paper that fell out said:

 _Ten minutes of massage - both give and receive._

Now that was something worth doing. "Give or receive, sweetheart?" he asked Molly, raising his eyebrow at her.

"Let's use your chair for this," Molly suggested. "I'll massage you first."

Sherlock nodded and she sat in his chair, while he sat cross-legged in front of her. When she didn't start immediately, he turned to look at her. "Problem?"

She was biting her lip. "It would probably be best if you took off your jacket and shirt," she ventured.

Sherlock grinned at that. If he had to take off his jacket and shirt, she would not be able to refuse him the same courtesy. He unbuttoned both and set them on the floor beside him. As Molly's fingers and thumbs worked his muscles, he marvelled at the strength of her small fingers. They did give each other massages on the odd occasion, but they could certainly do it more often, he reflected, as he felt himself relax under the soothing ministrations of her fingers. When she stopped, and he felt she had probably exceeded the ten minutes allotted, he felt her lips brush his back in several places and knew she was kissing those scars that would forever mar his skin from that long ago torture in Serbia.

Then he stood and pulled Molly up so they could switch places. She sat in front of him and he waited until she turned to look at him inquiringly. "Aren't you forgetting something, Molly?" he asked, as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh," she responded, then proceeded to remove her blouse and jumper. When she made no move to remove her bra, he reached down and unclasped it himself, pulling it away from her body.

She tilted her head slightly, but made no comment, and he teasingly reached around to give both breasts a quick squeeze, before he began his own massage. As he kneaded her shoulders, neck and upper back, Molly let outs several moans of pleasure. Every time he massaged her, it seemed to be something she was unable to control, and he had to admit it was turning him on. Those little moans sounded very much like the ones he fully intended to elicit from her later.

Sherlock knew he had taken longer than intended when the timer went off on Molly's phone again. Reluctantly he stopped and bent his head forward to kiss his wife's neck softly. He was a little disappointed when Molly reached for her bra and put it back on, followed by her blouse and jumper. He had not put his own shirt or jacket back on, so he too slipped the shirt back on, but did not bother with the jacket. He was beginning to feel quite uncomfortably warm, inside and out.

They walked back over to the remaining balloons and they both sat. Which one should he choose - the white or aqua one? _What the heck_ , he decided. Let's skip _the boring white._

He almost laughed out loud at the contents of the aqua balloon. "Re-create the Anderson 'Sherlolly kiss', Molly? Haven't we already done that many times?"

Molly pursed her lips. "You haven't done that hair ruffle since the first time. I want to see you do that."

Sherlock hooted with laughter. "You are too much, Molly." He sobered when Molly did not look pleased at his reaction. He definitely didn't want to ruin their night with a silly disagreement. "Fine, let's do this - _baby_. He pulled Molly to her feet, noting with smug satisfaction the smile on her face at his use of the pet name. _Better_.

Then he positioned himself facing her, did the required hair ruffle and placed his hands gently on either side of an en expectant Molly's face. He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers, waiting for the inevitable response. Her lips parted for him as her arms crept around his neck, and he kissed her languidly, continuing it way past the initial version where Anderson had said he pushed away from Molly and left her standing there, staring after him.

Nope, he'd never end a kiss that way. Instead, he began kissing more than her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, the shells of her ears while he moved his hands downwards to her shoulders. It was only when he felt Molly's chest heaving that he forced himself to stop. At this rate, they would not make it to the final balloon, and he wanted to know what it contained. He also wanted to know whist activity he had missed out on from the white balloon.

He took Molly with him over to his chair and pulled her onto his lap, then nuzzled his nose against her neck. "So," he murmured, "what activity was in the other balloon?"

Molly's face clouded a little as she contemplated the question. Finally her expression cleared. "Oh, it was to play chess, either strip chess or the regular way, until it was time for the next balloon."

Her arms were around him as she sat sideways on his lap, and he chuckled. "Re-creating another honeymoon scenario then?" He squeezed her knee and she giggled.

"At least it wasn't the feather, blindfold and handcuffs. Anyway, the point is moot. We just have to wait for midnight now."

They looked over at the telly, sitting quietly together until Big Ben chimed and the fireworks began.

"Happy New Year, sweetheart," Sherlock said, giving Molly a lingering kiss, after which she scrambled off his lap.

Tugging on his hand, she led him to the last balloon. "Happy New Year. Now, pop the last balloon and lets get on with it."

Sherlock grinned at her authoritative tone. "Yes ma'am." He dutifully popped the red balloon and read the words on the paper.

 _Shared bath or shower, followed by Molly in lingerie, concluding with..._

He gazed at his wife. "Go ahead and run a bath. You know a shower would negate the lingerie idea, and I'd really like to make love to you in our bed, without the possibility of interruption for once."

Molly beamed. "I figured you'd say that." She stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then hurried to the bathroom. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of the taps turning on. _If it's a bubble bath, I'll have to put up with her jasmine vanilla scent_ , he thought, with a twist to his lips. He kept forgetting to buy general bubble bath that did not smell like flowers.

Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock was comfortably ensconced in the (as he had expected) jasmine vanilla scented bubble bath, with his legs on either side of his wife as she leaned back against him.

Another fifteen minutes later and they had both finished the process of washing each other. They had teased and tormented one another to the point where Sherlock was most definitely ready to take things to the next level as soon as possible.

Molly exited the bath first so she could get into the teddy. Sherlock got out of the bath slowly, pulled out the plug to allow the water to drain, then dried himself, rubbing as much of the moisture out of his hair as possible.

By the time he entered the bedroom, Molly had posed herself seductively on the bed and his breath hitched. He was already more than ready to make love, naked as he was, but he was determined to enjoy this alone time with the woman he adored.

He climbed onto the bed and pulled Molly towards him, his eyes lingering on her soft curves behind the pink lace. He tickled her belly, then pressed a kiss to her exposed navel. And then he began to kiss her in earnest, lavishing her with his adoration.

They explored one another's bodies, knowing every inch by now, what the most erogenous zones were for both of them, where they were most ticklish, what he could do to make Molly whimper, and where she could make him groan with the desperate need to be one with her.

And when they finally consummated their love, they allowed themselves to be unrestrained in the joy of their union, uttering words of love and cries of passion that did not have to be contained, because there was nobody to hear them.

And as always, it was beautiful. An hour an a half into the new year, and Sherlock kissed Molly's hair as he held her close, their legs lazily entwined.

"Do you have a new year's resolution, my love?" he asked, caressing her cheek.

Molly looked at him with her eyes deep, dark, mysterious pools. "Not really. Perhaps to have another baby on the way by the end of the year? To keep loving you and Victoria and appreciating this wonderful life God has blessed us with? How about you?"

Sherlock smiled at her. "I hadn't thought of it either, but I think I'd like to get to know my new nephew better and to keep learning how to be the best husband, father and friend as well." He thought for a moment, then added. "I think too, that by the end of the year, regardless of whether baby number two is on the way, I would like us to be established in our own home."

Molly's hand linked with his. "So, we're going to leave Baker Street, no matter what?"

He looked at her gravely. "Only if that's what you want too."

"Yes, Sherlock, it's what I want too," she responded, resting her head against his chest. "I love you."

"Love you too, my dearest heart."

And with that, their conversation ceased. What would 2019 bring for them? A new home? A new baby? Sherlock didn't know, and usually he didn't like not knowing, but in this case he didn't need to know. He already knew he had everything that was of importance in life - faith, hope and love.

And with those uplifting thoughts, he joined his wife in peaceful slumber

* * *

 **Author's note:** I hope you enjoyed this little two-shot!

I wasn't initially planning a New Year's Eve story, but it was a conversation with one of my readers that prompted this. Therefore, I would like to give angelsong015 the credit for this story. She told me about the balloon activity idea, which she does with fun, gaming activities on New Year's Eve, and I thought it would make for a great story for Sherlock and Molly to enjoy a little alone time together. It's amazing how many stories can be created as a result of talking with friends!

The information about the rock band _Madness_ playing, and Big Ben resuming its chiming for midnight, is factual. If you are one of my English readers, I am sure this is good news.

There are references in this story to my engagement one, _A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage, A Honeymoon_ Journey, _First Christmas - Take Two_ and _You Do Count -Take Two_. if you have not read these stories, consider taking the plunge into my world of Sherlock and Molly from the beginning of their journey.

As usual, your feedback and follows/favourites will help to keep my creativity flourishing, so do show your support so I know I'm writing something worth reading. Please share your thoughts and opinions with me, rather than keeping them to yourself!


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